Hello Again
by movieholic
Summary: During a stake-out, Zoe runs into someone she'd never thought she'd ever see again.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I know ?? is not a very famous character in fanfiction stories, but I love him and I love the actor who portrays him. So I hope you read my story anyway, and enjoy it as well. Please just give it a try! **

**A/N: I never liked Adam Carter, so I'm pretending he's on leave or something...he will not be in here either at all or very briefly.**

* * *

Zoë Reynolds sighed softly as she closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair. She placed her hands behind her head for support, and slowly turned the chair left and right, like a rocking cradle. When heavy footsteps could be heard directly behind her, she shot up quickly and leaned over her desk as if she was working.

Looking up, Zoë met Danny's brown eyes, and she blushed. Brushing a lock of red hair from her face, she smiled and asked sweetly, "Can I help you, Danny?"

Danny grinned and shook his head, "No, I was just admiring the view."

Zoë rolled her eyes and sat up straighter, feeling safer knowing that it wasn't Harry catching her trying to nap on the job. She glanced over to where her boss's office was clearly visible and asked, "How's he been? I hear he's got a nasty cold."

Danny tried to smother a laugh and managed to keep his straight face as he said, "Really? You heard that have you?"

"I have…" she trailed off; she was too tired to joke about something so boring.

Danny sighed and pulled up a chair, he leaned forward, "I know, I'm bored too. Harry's been running about secretively, doing who knows what without informing us. I feel left out of the loop."

Zoë laughed softly, "Such a spy."

It was Danny who rolled his eyes this time, before sitting back in his chair and claimed, "I am. I'm Big Kahuna here at MI5."

She laughed again, a little bit more sincerely this time, as she scoffed and said, "Oh, really? Big Kahuna MI5 Agent, Danny Hunter?"

Danny made a face, "Long title though."

"You think?" Zoë questioned good naturedly. She rubbed her eyes with the palms of her slender hands, ignoring the concerned look Danny was giving her.

Danny looked as if he was going to speak, but thought better against it, until he leaned forward again and asked, "Are you okay?"

Zoë nodded quickly, "Yes, I'm just tired is all. Wanker of a neighbor next door is always blaring his bloody music at the wrong times of night."

Danny puffed his chest out and asked in what he thought was a manly manner, "Should I, uh, take care of him for you?"

Danny grinned when she laughed and shook her head, but deflated somewhat when she stated, "Who'd be scared of loveable Danny Hunter?"

"Loads of people," he argued back, feigning a hurt look.

"Right…" she giggled, teasingly. She snapped back to attention when her boss came striding towards them quickly.

"Danny, Zoë, we have a new assignment. Danny, with Carter on leave, you're in charge. Understood? Gather Sam, we'll meet in," he glanced at his watch, "Five minutes. Don't be late," the last statement was directed at Danny before Harry gave them a curt nod and took off once again.

"Wow, seems like an important assignment," Zoë concluded, her eyes following her boss's slightly stocky frame as he took off. Her gaze settled on Danny's haughty expression. She did a slight double take and asked, "What?"

"I'm not late _that_ often," he claimed, a slightly pouting look about his face.

Zoë shook her head and pushed her chair away from her desk, "Let's just get Sam, hey?"

"Fine," Danny muttered, pulling his chair away from hers and standing up in one fluid motion with the one word.

* * *

Five minutes later Zoë, Sam, Ruth and Harry found themselves seated around the same long wooden table they always found themselves around. When Harry stood up to begin briefing his agents, he realized Danny had yet to arrive. His eyebrows shot up as he shot Zoë a questioning look, as if to say "Was I not clear to him?"

Zoë shrugged and tried to hide a smile. The group didn't have to wait long before Danny showed up with a sheepish look directed at both Zoë and Harry. Zoë grinned and shook her head while Harry closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose as he began speaking.

"Okay, now that we're all here I can begin," he looked up at Danny before strolling in towards the end of the table, nearest the images that were projected onto the wall. He pointed to a picture of a man in the top left hand corner, a young man.

"This man is Hakeem Tariq, a former MI5 translator. This man," now he was pointing to another picture, of a haggard looking man with more wrinkles on his face than teeth in his leering mouth, "Is Atash Alam, a well known armed-guns supplier."

As if on cue, Danny raised a hand as if he was in second grade and asked, "So, what happened that made these two suddenly so important?"

Harry turned to face him and answered gravely, "Hakeem and Atash were seen conversing together in quite a friendly manner, causing MI5 to naturally feel alert."

Zoë looked up from her file, that Harry had passed out previous to his brief, and asked quietly, "Why '_former_?'"

Harry nodded, the key question he was looking for, and answered, "Sadly, Hakeem seemed to become severely influenced by the others he was supposed to be translating for and to. We had to let him go."

"Friendly friendly or just plain friendly?" asked Sam suddenly, her slightly confusing question raising some eyebrows. She looked around from where she was hunched over her file, her pen poised above the papers within.

Harry shook his head and asked patiently, "What do you mean, Sam?"

Sam blushed, "I mean was Hakeem a gay, or did he just become friends with the other men?"

"Oh," Harry cleared his throat uncomfortably and answered, "Hakeem was married with two kids prior to his joining MI5. However, like it seems to happen in our line of work, their relationship didn't survive. That's when Hakeem went downhill, beginning to communicate more and more with the enemy and less with us."

Sam paused, "So that's no, he wasn't a gay?"

"Yes, sweetie," Ruth answered, a small smile on her face.

Sam gave her a beaming smile before hunching over her open file to jot down some more notes furiously. Harry shook his head again before continuing, his hand once more on the wall to point to a picture of the two men deep in conversation on a street corner. "We had reason to believe that this man, Atash, was trying to get Hakeem to join him and his unit of men he had gathered. They called themselves "doost al-Qaeda," technically they're trying to say, "Friends of al-Qaeda."

"But al-Qaeda is generally against the Americans, are they not?" asked Danny, his dark eyebrows furrowed.

"Not necessarily," Harry responded before continuing about the group, "All I know so far is that this group was just a small time group of wanna-be terrorists trying to become famous. They were easily disbanded with the help of Hakeem, who was able to translate phone calls between these men…allowing us to pinpoint who was doing what, when and where."

"Cool," Danny claimed, before jotting some notes of his on within his open folder splayed in front of him.

"Was there a credible reason as to why MI5 felt that Hakeem was no longer needed here?" Zoë asked casually, her hazel eyes boring into Harry's nearly matching ones with a questionably tense air.

"We had proof, Zoë," he stated bluntly, his eyes never leaving hers. He felt compelled to let her know that they did not let people go without proof, but that was an argument for another day.

"Such as?" thankfully it was Danny who asked, sending a relieved feeling through Zoë's tense form.

"Pictures, taped conversations…a lengthy confession on Hakeem's part. That good enough?" Harry snapped, his face becoming slightly pink from an oncoming anger storm. Danny looked at Zoë and back at Harry confused.

"S'fine, Harry, thanks." He muttered, jotting down the notes he felt needed.

Harry took a calming breath, "We had proof, we decommissioned him as we felt appropriate. His name has recently been popping up all around terrorists cells within our own country; 'a man on a mission against those who've wronged him' is what they say about our old friend Hakeem."

"Against us?" Sam asked incredulously, as if the thought was unfathomable.

Harry gave her a grim nod, "It comes down to this, all known terrorists' cells we know about are itching to get this man into their groups and use him against us. They want to destroy MI5, point blank."

"How refreshing," Danny muttered, his nose buried in his folder.

"Okay, dismissed for now." Harry turned towards the screen and waved his hand towards the door. They all stood to leave, and as they filed out Harry called out, "Ms. Reynolds? I'd like to talk to you in my office after the stake-out op."

* * *

Zoë brushed away a tendril of hair that kept falling in her eyes. She glanced over towards where she could see Danny reading a newspaper casually. She then turned slightly and caught the eye of Jacob, a younger man who recently joined MI5 via MI6.

"_Zoë_?" a voice called out in her ear.

"All clear," she whispered, relishing in the soft breeze that blew her hair back slightly as she looked out from where she stood on a sidewalk.

"_All clear_," Danny's voice could be heard in her ear as well, as he continued to look about from his bench.

Suddenly a man appeared around the slightly crowded corner, his head low and his hands shoved into his pockets. He looked up briefly and paused, his dark eyes meeting Zoë's hazel ones. He took one step back, glanced at Danny across the street and suddenly fled the way he came.

"Damn," cursed Zoë and Danny in unison as they tore after they're fleeing target. Zoë managed to catch a glimpse of Hakeem tearing around another corner into a dark alley. She went alone, Danny not far behind. Suddenly a pipe connected with her stomach as Hakeem step from a shadow and fled once again, dropping the pipe.

Zoë grunted in pain and grasped at her stomach. Danny caught up and asked breathlessly, "You okay?"

Zoë nodded, "Go!"

Danny cast one last look of worry in her direction before taking off after Hakeem. Zoë leaned against a grimy ally wall before she was startled by a gentle hand on her shoulder. She looked up to see a hooded face peering down at her.

"Fuck off," she growled, her stomach in pain.

"Sorry, just wanted to make sure you were okay." Came the soft reply, too soft. Too caring. Too _familiar_. Zoë's eyes went wide as she tilted her head to try and look up at the face.

The tall, broad shouldered man took a step back and laughed gently, "I can't believe it. I can't fuckin' believe it…Zoë?"

Zoë shook her head, "This is not possible. I'm dreaming."

The scruffy looking man pulled back at his hood with gloved hands, fingers clearly poking through the worn material. With his slightly dirty face clearly revealed to Zoë, she couldn't help but think how handsome he still looked.

He laughed that sensual, soft laugh before repeating, "Zoë?"

The blue eyes twinkled in the slanted sunlight, capturing his tall handsome form in a perfect picturesque way. Zoë shrunk away and softly whispered, "Tom bloody Quinn."

* * *

**TBC...**

**Please, please review. I know Tom is not "famous" in fanfiction circles (Ruth and Harry occupy all MI5 stories).**

**So please give him and I a try. **

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I'm really nervous about how people are going to review, so I sincerely hope you enjoy this chapter. I do not own the brilliant show or the talented, handsome Mr. Macfadyen. Again, I really hope you guys enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

_The scruffy looking man pulled back at his hood with gloved hands, fingers clearly poking through the worn material. With his slightly dirty face clearly revealed to Zoë, she couldn't help but think how handsome he still looked._

_He laughed that sensual, soft laugh before repeating, "Zoë?"_

_The blue eyes twinkled in the slanted sunlight, capturing his tall handsome form in a perfect picturesque way. Zoë shrunk away and softly whispered, "Tom bloody Quinn."_

* * *

Zoë didn't miss the brief flicker of pain, which Tom had always managed to lock away in one of his many boxes, flash across his bright blue eyes. They stood out against his handsome pallor, his face lightly streaked with dirt. His long lashes framed the blue orbs, which were now composed and gazing down at Zoë. Zoë noted the light scruffy beard he was growing, the stubble light in color in comparison to his face.

Tom gave her a grin, a grin that caused her to shudder. As good looking as he was when he grinned liked that, it was one he wore near the end of his days at MI5. The "I'm fine, don't worry," grin that was just a mask to hide all of his pain buried for so long.

Zoë pulled away from him, and used the alley wall that she was leaning against to help herself to her feet. She tried to push away from Tom when he stepped forward and gently eased her up, concern flashing across his face.

"I'm fine, Tom, let go." She snapped as she pulled her arm out of his reach, her other arm wrapped around her sore stomach.

Tom frowned sadly and took a step back, "Sorry," he whispered, looking at the ground like a scolded child.

Zoë looked back and forth in the alley and finally asked, "What are you doing here, Tom? You should be long gone, you should be-"

"Dead?" he asked simply, his completely collected expression belying his ready-to-fight or flee body posture. The cold yet hurt tone did not surpass Zoë's ears as her face flushed red. She shook her head and responded, "You shouldn't be _here_."

Tom nodded once, quickly, "I know. But," he laughed harshly, another thing Zoë remembered from his last few days, "I have nowhere else to go, Zoë. MI5 is…excuse me, _was_, my life. All I ever knew…" he trailed off, as his eyes darted elsewhere.

Zoë, unsure as to what she should say or do, sighed. She looked him over again and thought, _God, he must be sleeping in a bloody dumpster. _She realized thathis eyes were now focused down the passage where Danny had disappeared. His head was cocked to the side slightly, hearing something that Zoë couldn't, the pounding of her heart too loud in her ears. Suddenly Tom turned on his heel and took off in the opposite direction without so much as a word; just as Danny appeared out of breath from the other side.

"Zoë! Are you okay?" he panted, placing his hands on his knees.

Zoë stared, open-mouth, in the direction that Tom had abruptly disappeared. She shook her head and glanced up to meet Danny's worried dark eyes. "I hardly know, Danny."

He stepped forward and leaned down to meet her eyes, which were focused where she last saw Tom. "Bloody hell, you look like you've seen a ghost!"

A brief smile flitted across her face before she answered, "Ghosts don't exist, Danny."

Danny expelled the breath he was holding, seeing she was fine now, as he straightened up and asked, "Then what do you call us?"

Zoë sighed and met his eyes, shrugging for his benefit, "The best damn anti-terrorist unit?"

Danny grinned and clapped her on the back, a little too roughly for her taste, "That sounds like something I would say."

Zoë smiled back and nodded, "I know," she stated before walking towards the alley exit she saw Tom flee out of. When she found herself on the sidewalk, she ran a hand through her short red hair. She caught herself looking around the area, realizing she was looking for Tom.

Danny appeared behind Zoë quietly before speaking, "Come on, Harry's going to want to know all the horrid details of our failed op."

"And…?" she trailed off, casting him a side-long look.

Danny grimaced, "We lost the guy, you got hurt, and we all feel like bloody hell."

Zoë sighed and shook her head, "Same old huh?"

"Yeah." Danny waited as Zoë finally felt like moving, and they began walking aimlessly, both trying to stall the imminent scolding from their boss.

They were both silent as they walked slowly, until Danny finally spoke hesitantly. "You know, sometimes I mis- never mind." He looked embarrassed as he cut himself off from the burst of speech, avoiding Zoë's look.

"Sometimes you miss what?" Zoë prodded, trying to keep up her side of the conversation as they walked.

Danny paused before asking, "Have you ever felt that you've seen someone that you know? But upon closer inspection you realize it was the hair that reminded you of that person? Or their eyes…their voice…their posture even?"

Zoë felt cold all over as she stopped walking and asked, "Why? Danny what are you going on about?"

Danny stopped as well and shrugged, "I miss Tom, Zoë. I feel like a bloody bastard for leaving him hanging on a thread like that…and feel even _worse_ that I helped gnaw on it till it snapped…I feel guilty."

Zoë heaved a suffering sigh before looking up at Danny. He wasn't looking at her, but at something or someone across the street. A spark of recognition flickered across his dark eyes before it was replaced by the guilt he was recently talking about. Danny hung his head, jumping slightly as Zoë placed a hand on his shoulder in a friendly manner.

He looked up and met her eyes as she said, "I feel terrible too, Danny. I can't help but wonder how things would have turned out if we would have backed Tom up that day…hell, how things would have been before Herman Joyce buggered it all up." She spat out Joyce's name with such disgust, it made Danny falter before his reply back.

"If you came face to face with him again…what would you say?" he asked, unsure as to why he was so suddenly vested on the subject.

Zoë looked away briefly, pulling her hand back as if she was just bitten. "Why do you ask?"

Danny once again looked at the ground, "Can we talk in private? I mean later, after the whole 'catching Harry up' bit?"

Zoë felt a heavy weight in her stomach, she was certainly afraid of what Danny had to say to her, that couldn't be said now in public. She realized that Danny was looking at her, and she nodded quickly.

"Sure Danny, sounds good to me."

Danny smiled and nodded, "Okay."

* * *

An hour and a half later, Danny placed a glass of red wine in front of Zoë before throwing himself onto his couch, next to her. She barely reacted, sipping at her wine as if on automatic as she stared straight ahead without really seeing anything.

"So…what I'm about to tell you cannot leave this room. Understand?" he began, his tone of voice having her attention quickly. He leaned forward and repeated, "It _cannot_ leave the room, Zoë."

"Well, spit it out then, Danny!" she snapped, her nerves frayed ever since her brief encounter with Tom and the dead weight of fright in the pit of her stomach.

"I saw Tom two days ago," he said quickly, raising a hand to stop her from interrupting, although she made no move to, "I know it was him. I was face to face with the man, in all his dirty, grungy glory. I had no idea what to say to the damn man- I was so out of it!"

"How? When?" Zoë managed to choke out after a tense moment of silence, her hazel eyes wide as she stared at Danny.

"I caught a glimpse of him exiting a pub, and decided to follow him, see where he led me. I wasn't sure it was really him, until I saw him light up a smoke under a street lamp…smoking a cigarette as if he had no care in the world. I kept following him, when he led me to an abandoned warehouse…where he was apparently living."

Zoë felt teas swell up in her eyes, her throat tight as she murmured, "I saw him too, today…in the alleyway…"

Danny went bug-eyed and gaped unattractively at her as he blurted, "Are you serious? You must be joking! It can't be coincidence...decommissioned agents should never be seen again…_I_ shouldn't even have seen him! Did you talk to him?"

Zoë nodded slowly, "Briefly- oh Danny! He was so pathetic looking! So vulnerable and hurt…and I know I did that to him. MI5, his country…we did this to him!"

Danny looked away, Guilt taking another chunk of his heart. He hung his head, "The poor man is miserable without this job…he lived for this place, for his country…and we all abandoned him in his time of need, then kicked him when he was already down."

Zoë solemnly nodded, wiping at a few tears that managed to escape from her eyes and slide down her pink cheeks. She looked away and turned back quickly, "We need to help him. Even if I lose my job doing so, I will help Tom Quinn."

Danny's expression became serious as he agreed, "Same here."

* * *

Tom Quinn, the popular man at the moment between two guilt ridden friends, was packing up what little belongings he had with him and placed them into a small box. He paused as he placed an ID of himself into the carton, a memory dragging itself from his past into the present…the familiar voices so close, as if they were right there whispering into his ears:

"…_No, you um…you have to put your real self, in a box…and only when you come home…and you open up the box and say ''Oh…h-hello, real me."_

"_What if the box…got lost?"_

A pause.

"_You'd have to reinvent yourself."_

Tom waved his hand in the air as if brushing away the memory, as thick as it was; it was like a nagging fly buzzing around his head. He sighed and closed his eyes, willing himself to control his emotions.

After a minute he reopened his eyes and froze. A few yards away, a door that led into the dark warehouse was open, and standing within the chipped frame was Danny and Zoë. Tom willed his heart to stop pounding as he grabbed his box and placed it under his arm securely.

"Where are you going?" Zoë called out softly, her brows furrowed in confusion. Tom smiled briefly.

"Classified," he called back, his voice echoing in the large building.

Danny shook his head, "Oh come off it, Tom!"

Suddenly the man felt angry, Danny and Zoë had no right to come after him and ask him questions like this. Not after all that had happen…

Tom shook his head roughly and jabbed his finger in their direction, "No Danny, no! You followed me from the pub- why? Why didn't you just walk away Danny?" when neither Zoë nor Danny made a sound Tom took a step forward, shouting, "Answer me, damn it!"

Startled, Zoë found herself stepping closer towards Danny. Danny looked at her briefly before answering, "I missed you, Tom! I feel like hell, Zoë and I feel like bloody shite for what we did to you, Tom. We're sorry, we really are."

There was a long tensed filled pause before a harsh laughter escaped from Tom's pink lips. He had his eyes squeezed shut and his head thrown back as the sound echoed in the darkness. Danny looked at Zoë again, confused and worried.

"Bye, Danny, Zoë." Tom stated, his face composed as if he was not laughing or smiling seconds before. Danny took a step forward, about to protest, but Tom had already disappeared into the shadows.

"Damn it Tom! Come back!" Zoë shouted, having found her voice now. She felt the tears cascade down her face once again, her heart torn, "Come on you coward!"

There was a loud crashing sound behind them, causing them to jump and turn in time to see an angry Tom Quinn marching forward quickly. He was nearly upon them when he stopped abruptly, jabbing a finger in Zoë's direction, "Coward? Is that what you think of me, Zoë? I'm a _coward_?"

Zoë stuck her lip out defiantly, "I think you're a bloody coward Tom Quinn. Running away, like you always do," Zoë knew she was just blowing hot air, Tom Quinn was not a coward, nor had he ever shown cowardice.

Tom chuckled, "Nice try, Zoë," turning to Danny he asked, "Anything you'd like to call me, Hunter? A traitor? An ass?"

Danny's mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. Finally he found his voice and whispered, "Would, 'I'm sorry,' count?"

A flash of sadness crossed over Tom's face before he replaced it with a cool grace, "I should go, it was…nice, seeing you again."

Zoë and Danny found themselves gaping at where Tom had just stood. Danny managed to compose himself and place a hand on Zoë's shoulder. He squeezed it gently and whispered, "Come, Zoë, he clearly wants nothing to do with us any longer."

Zoë shook her head gently and took a step forward calling out, "Damn you Tom Quinn! Damn you!"

Silence ensued, save for the heavy breathing from Danny and Zoë in the chilly building. Danny once again gripped Zoë's shoulder, steering her towards the door they had appeared in. Casting one last, pitiful look within the dark confines of the warehouse, Zoë finally allowed Danny to lead her towards their vehicle.

When they had finally left, Tom stepped out from within the shadows and whispered softly, "I'm so sorry," his breath visible only slightly as the words escaped from his barely trembling lips. His blue eyes, brimmed with tears, closed as he expelled a heavy breath and turned on his heel, ready to leave the warehouse for a new home.

* * *

**TBC...**

**I realy hope you guys liked this chapter, so please review and tell me!  
I'm a nervous wreck about it, so I hope I did the show some justice.**


	3. Chapter 3

Zoë raked a slender hand through her short hair, heaving a sigh. She glanced over at Danny through half-lidded eyes and smiled nonchalantly. Danny bit his bottom lip and cocked his head to the side.

"You okay?" he asked quietly, thankful they chose a quiet pub to relax in.

Zoë nodded, although she had to look away for fear of spilling more hot tears. Danny placed a caring hand on her arm and leaned forward, "It's alright Zoë, everything will be fine."

Zoë turned sharply on her stool, dropping her hand with a loud _thump_ against the oak bar. She seemed to be scoffing, but Danny was unsure. "_'Fine_,' Danny? You think everything will be all hunky dory now, do you?"

Danny looked taken aback as Zoë continued on her small rant, "Tom is out there, alone and cold while we're sitting here drinking pints all cozy and warm as if we have no care in the world, while he's out there looking for another _warehouse_ to live in! Damn it Danny, everything is _not_ fine!"

There was a long stretch of silence following her outburst, during that time Zoë had clamped her hand over her mouth as tears trickled over it. Danny quickly scanned the room with his dark eyes, and noted gladly that the few patrons within the dark lighted pub were either too busy getting drunk or already there, in order to notice anything.

Just as Zoë was about to say something, Danny stopped her with a raised hand. He shook his head and said quietly, "No Zoë, you're right." He leaned close and murmured, "I'm sorry, okay?"

Zoë, her hand still pressed across her lips, nodded slowly. She finally lowered her hand and whispered, "I'm sorry too."

Danny smiled and grabbed her hand, bringing their entwined hands to the bar's countertop. He caressed her hand with his thumb in a friendly manner, looking down.

"You're not giving up, are you?" he asked, raising his head to meet her eyes.

She looked up as well, tears still visible in her hazel orbs. Her lips were a thin line on her pink face as she resolutely claimed, "No. I'm not."

Danny sighed but offered her a smile nevertheless. "Then we ought to go home, rest up, and come up with a plan because with our schedule we can't go gallivanting about the country side. Especially for a decommissioned agent that we were never supposed to see again."

Zoë felt her lips twitching with the faintest of smiles as she responded, "Sounds like a good idea to me."

* * *

After many hours of on-foot traveling, Tom stopped in a secluded park and placed his hands upon his knees, trying to catch his breath. He stood up quickly, adjusted the small box of all his possessions underneath his arm, and began walking forward. He spotted a bench and gladly made his way over, nearly throwing himself onto the cold wood.

Tom sat stoically, staring ahead at nothing but his wispy breath dancing in the chilly night air. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, opening his mouth slightly and inhaling deeply. He held it for a moment before expelling it, feeling the diminishing warmth of his body trying to seep back into his skin.

Tom sat up straighter and glanced at his wrist, where a tattered, black sports watch was wrapped around it tightly. He noted the time, surveyed his surroundings quickly and shifted on the bench until he lie facing the stars above. He counted sheep mentally and the twinkling stars above while he rubbed his hands and arms in order to restore the thinning warmth his hooded sweater supplied him.

Heaving a suffering sigh, Tom turned on his side and placed his numb hands underneath his head. He felt himself drifting off to sleep, and briefly wondered why he didn't attempt to conceal his box of possessions from thieves.

_Because there is nothing in there bloody well worth stealing…or keeping_ he thought as he closed his eyes and imagined himself by a large, crackling fire with Maisie and Ellie.

* * *

Tom Quinn raised a heavy arm and tried in vain to shield his blue eyes from the blinding sunlight above. He squinted and turned his head, looking at the grassy ground underneath him. He jerked up when he realized that his box was no longer where he had it.

Tom leapt off the bench and knelt down, although it was futile. It was obvious his box was missing, and he cursed aloud and kicked the bench in an uncharacteristic manner. He threw his hands up in the air, clasping them behind his head as he scrunched his face up angrily.

"Damn, damn, damn it! I bloody well knew it!" he shouted angrily, pacing the bench's width before he turned and once again kicked the bench ineffectively.

After a few minutes of cursing, Tom found himself a few feet away from the bench, heaving and trying to catch his breath. He felt frozen inside and out, and bit the inside of his cheek in order to keep from thinking of the icy daggers in his chest.

Shivering violently, Tom cast one last glance at his vacant bench. He shoved his scarcely gloved hands within his pockets, digging them as far as they could go, his frozen fingers seeking warmth in the deepest crevices of the clothing material.

He bent his head down as he stalked off as he hunched his broad shoulders against the slight wind that had begun to pick up. His tall form disappeared from the dew covered park, empty handed.

* * *

**TBC...**

**Please Review.**

**Suggestions welcome.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Very big thanks to Zelofheda for the help and suggestions. Without your help, this story wouldn't have been updated for awhile. So THANK YOU! **

* * *

"Zoë? Wake up, Harry's expecting us within the half hour." Danny prodded his flat mate gently. He continued to poke her until she made a grumbling noise. He smiled satisfactorily and trotted off towards the bathroom, fiddling with his clothing and watch.

Zoë sat up and yawned, her hair dangling in front of her eyes. She pushed it away from her forehead with no effect, so she huffed and rolled over onto her back. After a few minutes of staring up at the ceiling, she rolled off the bed and shuffled towards the kitchen for a glass of water.

Danny burst from the bathroom and threw his hands up in the air when he saw Zoë drinking a glass of water casually. He pointed his watch and exclaimed, "We're going to be late if you don't hurry!"

Zoë smothered a laugh at Danny's rushed antics. She dumped the rest of the water in the sink as she said, "I'm rarely late, so I'm sure Harry will be lenient on me if I am today."

Danny scowled as he muttered, "Well apparently I'm _always_ late, so I thought I'd change that bad habit now."

"I'm going! I'm going, Danny!" Zoë laughed as she nearly fled out of the kitchen o get ready. Danny watched her leave, glad she was happier than last night.

* * *

Harry surveyed his team with a beady eye, drumming his fingers on the wooden table in a steady rhythm. Danny glanced at the other members of his team worriedly, before Harry cleared his throat and stood up swiftly.

"Hakeem Tariq, after our failed op, has been lying low," Harry cast a look over at Danny and Zoë before continuing, "However he hasn't disappeared completely, fortunately for us. He's been seen talking to a few men here and there; men who we suspect work for Atash Alam."

The team shifted in their seats as they watched Harry intently, not wanting to miss a single fact in their line of work. Harry continued his walk about the room, his hands in his pockets nonchalantly.

"I want you," he pointed to Sam," to find out everything you can on Atash's connections while you," he pointed to Ruth, "Find out what kind of weapons Atash has to sell."

Sam and Ruth nodded in unison. Harry placed his hand back into his pocket.

"Danny and Zoë, you two are going to have to follow Hakeem in an unmarked vehicle, working under the _strong_ assumption that he's seen both of your faces. Take Malcolm for technical support, as usual."

Danny and Zoë nodded, although more solemnly than their coworkers. The thought of Tom was still fresh on their minds, very vivid and clear. Zoë cradled her head in her heads as Danny hung his, both suddenly tired as they remembered what else they needed to do.

Harry studied them carefully before he made his way to the door and opened it, "To work!"

Sam and Ruth left quickly, heads buried in their files and notes as they made their ways to their respective desks. Zoë stood up to make her way towards the door as well, but Danny's hand on her arm stopped her. She whirled around questionably.

"What about…you know?" Danny asked quietly, looking out the glass walls of their meeting room.

Zoë pulled her arm away carefully as she shook her head, "Not here, not now, Danny."

Danny sighed as she left. He gathered his notes up and followed suit.

* * *

Tom wandered along busy streets, unaware as to where he was going, but strongly aware of the hunger pains in his empty stomach. He stopped on a corner, watching carefully as different people brushed by him in their haste to go somewhere.

Tom glanced down at his stomach, and then looked around again. He noticed a young man walking along the sidewalk quickly, his head low to the ground in a suspicious manner. To Tom everyone was suspicious, but he couldn't shake the feeling that this man was not who he seemed to be.

Without a second thought, Tom found himself weaving thought the crowds of people along the sidewalk, his blue eyes trained on the hunched figure. Fifteen minutes later Tom found himself outside a run-down motel. He glanced around carefully before stepping forward, realizing that at this point he too looked suspicious himself.

"Bloody hell," he muttered, his breath once again coming in white wisps. He scanned the nearly empty parking lot, and noted a dark alley to his right, running along the vacant looking building. He found himself walking towards the ally, a knot in his stomach.

Suddenly a pair of hands grabbed Tom from behind. Panic came and went as Tom regained his composure and attempted to fight off the arm that wrapped around his neck. His eyes were wide as he struggled to breath.

Tom elbowed his attacker in the stomach, hearing a satisfying _oof_ from the other man. Turning on his heel, Tom managed to slip from underneath the choking arm. He grabbed the other by the neck of his collar and lifted him off the ground a few inches, ignoring the urge to throw him to the gravel as hard as he could.

"Who are you?" he ground out, his breath coming out in heavy pants.

The man, a young Middle Eastern, spat in Tom's face as he struggled in the taller man's strong grip. However, Tom's grip wasn't as strong as it once was, with his physicality being slightly weaker from living rough.

Tom grunted as his opponent kneed him, forcing him to release his hold. Tom stumbled back, unable to regain his footing when the other began pounding on Tom's body brutally.

"All hail doost-al Qaeda! All hail doost-al Qaeda! In the name of Atash, I shall strike down on his enemies!" the man screamed, his fists and legs connecting with Tom's body repeatedly.

Tom, lying on his side in the grime covered ally, attempted to cover his face with his hands. He couldn't breathe, but was glad for the little warmth his own blood trickling down his body gave him.

After what seemed like an eternity, the blows stopped and the only sound Tom could hear was his harsh, labored breathing and a ringing in his ears. Tom dropped his hands to the ground and coughed, spitting up what he was sure was blood from the coppery taste. He groaned in agony, squeezing his eyes shut in order to stop the blinding lights dancing in front of his eyes.

**TBC...**

**Please Review.**


	5. Chapter 5

"Ruddy-Nora! It's cold isn't it?" Malcolm exclaimed in a cheerful manner, rubbing his hands together as Danny, Zoë and himself got situated in the cramped van.

Zoë made a sound that only Danny heard, the latter sending a dark look to Malcolm. Malcolm didn't notice, however, as he continued chatting about the poor weather while he fiddled with controls within the van.

After making comments on the "rust-bucket" of a vehicle they were in, in order to create some small talk, Malcolm finally fell silent. He busied himself in the back of the van while Zoë stared through the windshield. Danny, sneaking glances back at her from the wheel of the car, sighed inwardly.

When Danny saw their target emerge from a building, he started the car without a word. The others remained quiet as well, seeing no need to talk. Danny merged into the moderate traffic, blending in easily. They followed Hakeem as he walked along the packed sidewalks; his head hung low and his shoulders hunched against the cold.

Danny tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, bored out of his mind and annoyed at his own self for being reduced to a van driver in this important op. Zoë, who was watching the people walking along in hurried paces, found herself daydreaming until Danny spoke.

"I think someone else is tailing our guy," he claimed urgently, barely turning his head to meet Zoë's eyes.

Zoë's head snapped up and she moved in between the two front seats, trying in vain to look out through the windshield. Danny pointed out the tall figure, a broad-shouldered man wearing the same clothing as…

"Christ." Danny muttered his body stiffening in his seat. Zoë made an inaudible gasp as Malcolm leant forward.

"What? What's going on?" he asked, his eyebrows furrowed together.

Zoë recovered quickly and turned to face the man behind her, 'Nothing, Malcolm! It's nothing! We just seem to have someone following our man."

"Should I inform Harry?" Malcolm asked, reaching for his phone in the back of the van.

"No! Don't worry; we can handle this without Harry, right now." Zoë assured him.

Malcolm shrugged and retreated towards the back once more. Danny gave Zoë a hard look as she mouthed, "Keep following him."

* * *

Tom groaned as he rolled over onto his stomach, inhaling sharply as another wave of pain traveled through his entire body. He pushed himself onto his elbows and looked up and down the alley, finding himself alone. He managed to finally stand on his feet a few minutes later, grabbing a wallet from the ground as he did so.

"Bloody little wanker dropped his wallet…" he growled as he tore open the wallet with shaking fingers. He pulled out a few credit cards and was slightly surprised to find a few false IDs stashed behind the actual one. He pulled out a few hundred dollar bills and grinned, "Serves the ass right."

With a wince, Tom limped out of the alley and into the main office of the motel. He asked for a room and paid for it using the cash, unwilling to use the credit cards immediately.

* * *

"Where'd they go?" mumbled Danny as he hunched over the wheel, looking for the two men that disappeared suddenly.

Zoë reappeared in between the two seats and whispered, "Did you lose them?"

Danny shot her a look before turning back, "No, I didn't _lose_ them."

"Then where are they, Danny?" she demanded, her voice still low.

Danny sighed, "I've no idea, I should go look. I'll be right back."

"Danny! No what if they-"Zoë was cut off as Danny shut the front door on her words. She slumped against the seat and finished the rest of her question, "See you."

Danny ran across the street and into the parking lot, a small motel stood in front of him. He cursed when he saw the alley, assuming that the men disappeared down that way. He walked into it, looking around for anything to help him. He picked up a dropped credit card with a tissue he found in his jacket pocket, and carried it back to the car.

"I found this in the alley way, it might be Hakeem's. Can you check it for prints back there Malcolm?" Danny began quickly, as soon as he sat himself within the car again.

Malcolm carefully grabbed the credit card with the tissue and nodded, "I actually did come equipped for this sort of thing. It should take me a few minutes, but I'm sure I'll find some prints on this little thing."

Danny looked at Zoë as he thanked Malcolm. She leaned forward as Danny whispered in her ear, "There was blood, someone was hurt. It could be total coincidence, or it could be one of them. They might've scuffled."

Zoë nodded, as she pointed out, "If one was hurt, they couldn't have gone very far."

Danny and Zoë looked at the building simultaneously, before looking back at each other. Danny made for the door as Zoë jumped over the seats and exited the passenger side, calling out to Malcolm, "Be right back, keep working!"

Malcolm waved a hand at them, concentrating on his new task. Zoë and Danny ran across the street and into the main office, out of breath already. Danny marched up the owner and asked, "Did someone just come in here in the past five, ten minutes?"

The elderly man, who was slightly flustered at Danny's approach, nodded quickly. "Why yes, he was quite a big man…looking really bad. I offered to call an ambulance for him, but he refused. I gave him a room."

"Do you know what room he's in?" demanded Danny.

The man looked down at a list, "E8. But hey, he wasn't planning on staying the night…he's paid for a really short stay; I think to wash his wounds. Told me a few ruffians tried to mug 'im."

Danny thanked him hurriedly and rushed Zoë out of the office, running towards the room Tom was presumed to be in. They opened the unlocked door, and burst in. Danny shivered violently, stopping short when he saw the open window.

"Damn it! He made us!" Danny threw his hands up into the air and paced about, while Zoë entered the bathroom and gasped.

"Danny! He's hurt bad, look at all the blood!" she exclaimed, her voice on the verge of tears. Danny rushed in and paused, eyes bulging out his head.

"Christ Tom!" he murmured, glancing over the paper towels, toilet tissue, and complimentary motel towels that littered the bathroom. Each was covered in blood, some heavy some lightly spattered. The sink was a shade of pink, the water mixing with the red liquid.

"God damn it, he left without his sweatshirt!" cried Zoë, holding up the dark blue object.

Danny cursed once again. Tom was out there…alone, tired, penniless, freezing and wounded badly. Danny felt the bile rise up in his throat; this was going to be a long day.

* * *

**TBC...**

**Please Review.**


	6. Chapter 6

Tom crashed into the brick wall with a low grunt of pain. He clutched his side, and inhaled sharply. The stinging cold stabbed his chest with every gasping breath he took. With a brisk shake of his head, he stumbled forward again, gaining enough momentum to continue his awkward gait. He couldn't shake the feeling that they were just behind him, Zoe and Danny. He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end; could almost swear that their fingertips were grasping for the collar of his shirt.

After mindlessly running, Tom found himself at the mouth of the alleyway. He paused, one hand still resting against his aching ribs, the other against the rough bricks. His blue eyes wandered wildly, unaware of what he was looking for as he tried to fight the catch in his throat. He knew he looked mad, half-beaten and out of breath as he was. With a quick look over his shoulder, he tried to straighten up as much as his injuries allowed, and stride out of the alley looking as inconspicuous as possible.

With his head bent low, Tom tried to avoid looking anyone in the eye as he passed them. His right hand occasionally rose to touch his side. He didn't know where he was going, or what he was doing, he just knew that one foot in front of the other got him further and further away from the MI-5 duo. A sudden thought hit him as he reached the street corner. Were they on a case? Were they looking for him specifically, or the suspicious man that he had scuffled with? Furthermore, were they alone? Tom stiffened, and worried his bottom lip. He dipped his head a little lower, and peered from underneath his long lashes at his surroundings. What didn't belong? What, or who, seemed out of place?

"There," Tom whispered, as his eyes settled on a nondescript van across the street. If their op involved the man who had attacked Tom, if they were even on a case in the first place, the van was near enough the commotion to be theirs. Looking both ways, up and down the street, Tom limped across and automatically slipped into stealth mode. Half crouching, he maneuvered behind the van, staying out of sight of the side mirrors in case anyone was still inside.

With a deep breath, he grabbed the door handle and threw it open. Tom wasn't sure what would greet him on the other side, but the sight of the ruddy faced Malcolm, eyes wide and mouth open in an exclamation of shock, was not it.

Just as the words, "Tom _bloody_ Quinn," were passing through the elder man's lips, Tom was already pushing himself up and into the vehicle, hushing him. They both sat there, quite awkwardly, sizing one another up. Tom felt cramped and uncomfortable, his side hurting more than ever.

"Malcolm," Tom said, by way of greeting.

After a brief moment of just listening to one another breath, Malcolm furrowed his brow and turned to the former agent. "Excuse me for saying so," he began hesitantly, "But I thought that when one was decommissioned, we weren't supposed to see each other again."

Tom smiled weakly. "Yeah," he replied, slightly amused. So far he had already run into Zoe and Danny, and now Malcolm. Who else could he run into that he wasn't supposed to?

"Then again, nothing ever goes as it's supposed to, does it?" Malcolm continued, as if Tom never spoke. He tilted his head to the side, reminiscing. "Actually, I remember one instance-"

"Please, Malcolm," Tom interrupted, a slightly wounded expression now overtaking his face. "My bloody head is pounding, and I feel like shit." His eyes fluttered, as if to further prove his statement.

It was as if Malcolm suddenly noticed that the younger man was clutching his abdomen, and barely able to sit up right. Blood smeared his shirt, and smudged his cheeks. There appeared to be a good amount of dirt as well, ground deep into the pores of his skin, as if he wasn't just rolling in it a moment ago, but living in it.

"What on _earth_ happened?"

Tom shook his head. "Not enough time." He looked around, ignoring the equipment. The others would have to be back soon, having not found much of anything in his motel room. He racked his brain for a new course of action. He wasn't even sure what he would hope happen when he leapt inside the van in the first place. He cursed softly, underneath his breath. He could feel Malcolm's scrutinizing eyes on him; hear their breathing mingled with the sounds of life outside. His sounded a lot harsher.

"I need to go," he mumbled, reaching for the door handle. Malcolm shot forward and placed a hand on his outstretched arm, and Tom reacted. He grabbed the older man's hand and twisted it to the side, far enough to cause pain, but not enough to break it. It was Malcolm's surprised gasp that caused Tom to immediately let go and stutter an apology.

"It's quite alright," Malcolm stated, although not without a slight hitch in his voice.

Tom, unable to meet his eyes, took a shuddering deep breath. He grunted softly at the pain it caused, but was unable to do anything about it. He slowly reached up and touched his left eye tenderly, and jerked his hand back. The vision was going blurry as it continually swelled, and he knew that he needed to find a place to patch up and get himself on his feet again.

He reached for the handle again, without Malcolm's interruption. He paused, and slightly turned his head towards Malcolm. "Tell Danny and Zoe to stop looking for me." He opened the door and gingerly stepped out. Before he closed it, he added, "I'll find them," then slammed the door.

Gathering himself, he pressed his back against the doors of the van and closed his eyes.

"Focus," he muttered, squeezing his eyes shut tighter, wincing involuntarily at the pressure it added to the swollen one. "Focus," he repeated.

Shelter. That had to be his first priority. To leave the immediate area and go into hiding, from there he could come up with the next step. Until then, he needed to move. Two raised voices, very familiar voices, roused him from his deep thought, and he took a few hesitant steps forward. As much as he wanted to turn his head and confirm who he knew the voices belonged to, he didn't want to risk having them see his face.

As he continued forward, trying to focus his dwindling energy into not looking obviously injured, the two behind him reached the side of the van. He kept his head down and just moved.

"We _have_ to find him, Danny!"

There was a grumble, and a weary, "I know," in response.

The double doors at the back of the vehicle flew open, and Malcolm stepped out excitedly. "I saw him! He just went-" he whirled around in a circle, and physically deflated. "I have no bloody idea which way he went."

Zoe and Danny looked at one another, and back at the older man. Danny reached out and gripped Malcolm's shoulder, and took a steadying breath. "Malcolm," he said, slowly, "What did he say?"

Zoe waited with bated breath, listening as she scanned her surroundings. He just left, which meant he couldn't have gotten very far. Her eyes suddenly went wide and she pointed with her right hand, as the other slapped Danny on the back. "Danny, there! He's there!"

Danny didn't even bother looking or saying another word, he just tore off after his partner, who was flying down the sidewalk. The man she spotted, lousily hiding a limp, was several yards ahead and turning a corner further down the street.

Tom, who had heard Zoe's shout, casually kept walking. However, he increased his speed, and when he rounded the corner, he bolted. Still clutching at his side, and fighting off the ebbing black of unconsciousness trying to overtake him, he ran as fast as he could down the block.

The sound of the Danny and Zoe behind him, easily covering the distance between them, made Tom feel light-headed and shaky. He knew he wasn't going to make it. After a brief moment of hesitation, Tom ducked into the nearest ally and ran until he came upon a fence blocking his path. With a low moan, he grabbed the links with his hands and futilely shook the fence.

"Tom?" Zoe called out, slightly out of breath.

"What do you _want_?" he demanded, voice hoarse and weary. He had yet to face them.

"We just want to help you, Tom."

Tom tilted his head back and laughed, a deep and resonant laugh. With one hand still gripping the fence, he half turned to face the others. "You want to help me? _Help_?" he spat the word as if it literally tasted disgusting in his mouth. "You didn't _help_ when I needed you before, why would I need your _help_ now?"

Danny, sending a smoldering glare towards his former leader, took a step forward despite Zoe's slight protest. "We made a mistake, Tom! How many different ways can I bloody say it? We're sorry-" he cut himself off and made a motion with his hand, as if he felt his words of apology were falling on deaf ears.

Tom just watched him, head canted to the side in curiosity. He glanced askance to Zoe, who looked just as equally mournful and pathetic. Biting his lower lip, he nodded firmly to himself and released his grip on the metal link. "Right. Fine." He took an unsteady forward, feeling his knees finally giving out on him.

Danny knelt beside him immediately, feeling Zoe's move to help from behind. Both on either side, they carefully pulled him up from underneath his arms and looked at one another.

"Right," Danny muttered, feeling the heavy weight of the much larger man pushing down on his shoulders.

"Fine," sighed Zoe, exasperatedly, nearly collapsing underneath Tom's much bulkier frame.

They looked at one another, Tom's head hanging in between the two of them. Each taking a deep breath, they proceeded to start forward, bearing Tom's unconscious form.

* * *

**TBC...**

**Please Review.**

**A/N: I apologize so much for this delay. I've been occupied by the military, and trying to physically heal. I really hope to get motivated again, and to get down and work on this story, and the others I've abandoned as well. It will take time, but you faithful readers know how real life gets in the way. Again, I'm sorry, and I sincerely hope I don't make you wait as long for the next chapter. Suggestions, advice, tips, and constructive criticism are all welcome. Thank you!**


	7. Chapter 7

Despite the fact that their van was only parked around the corner, it took a long while for the pair to muscle Tom's heavy form the distance. By the time they reached the double doors of the vehicle, Zoe was relieved by Malcolm. She rounded the van and pressed her back against it, sagging down nearly to the sidewalk in exhaustion. She could hear the grunts and moans from the men, as they worked together in order to fit Tom into the back of the already crowded car.

When they finally got him inside, and managed to not close the doors on his ankles, Danny bent over double and let out a low moan of relief. He slowly straightened up, wincing at the tightness of his back and shoulders, and wiped a hand down his face. "That man weighs a ton!"

Malcolm, who only had to endure bearing the mass of Tom Quinn for a minute or two, nodded in agreement. "Too bloody old for this," he grumbled, as he joined Zoe.

"Too right," Danny replied in agreement, standing in front of the other two. After a minute of gathering up their wits, they finally looked at one another and exchanged pointed looks.

"Well?" Zoe finally said, pushing herself off the side of the van. She placed a hand on her hip and looked at her partner. "What the hell do we do with him, Danny?"

He looked taken-aback for a second before he looked towards Malcolm, then back at her again. "What do you mean? Don't you have a plan?"

Zoe repeated his reaction, then laughed humorlessly. She pointed at herself, and said, "_Me_?"

Danny furrowed his brow, and placed both of his hands on his hips. "Yeah, you. You wanted to help him out so badly, and now that we've actually got him, what the hell do we do?"

Malcolm, having seen Zoe's scoff at Danny's reply, took a quick step forward and replied with a soft, but firm, interjection. "If I may be so bold to intervene," he began, looking around the area with concern, "Perhaps we should first find a place to, uh, well to regroup, so to speak. _Then _it may be appropriate to decide the next step." He looked between the two agents, eyebrows raised and hands spread out in a silent plea for compliance.

Danny glanced towards the older man, and then realized what exactly what he was trying to say. Here they were, three MI-5 employees standing out in the open, causing a little scene, with an unconscious former agent inside their van. Brilliant.

Zoe, having caught on as well, nodded and stepped away. She got into the van without another word, as Danny and Malcolm shared similar looks of relief.

Danny climbed into the driver's seat, as Malcolm struggled to enter through the back. While the two up front were situated and ready to go, the technician held them back by trying to simultaneously close the back door and not break any of Tom's bones in the process. He offered a few colored curses underneath his breath until finally he looked up and waved his hand. "All situated."

"Brilliant," Danny muttered, as he rolled his eyes and started up the van.

Zoe placed her elbow on the door, and propped her head up with her hand. She closed her eyes and took a steadying breath. _What have we gotten ourselves into_?

It was nearly an hour later when they pulled into the lot of a motel similar to the one Tom had tried to escape from. While Malcolm went in to pay for the room, the other two once again struggled to maneuver Tom's weight. They were happy to see that he was coming around, and was able to provide at least a little help in trying to stay upright.

"Where are we?" he mumbled, as they tried to dispose him as gently as they could on one of the two available beds.

Zoe knelt beside him as Danny worked to remove Tom's shoes. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and smiled softly at his hazy-eyed expression. "Safe."

"Safe?" he whispered. One eye was swollen shut, and turning into a brilliant shade of pink and purple, but the other tried to focus through the pain and latch onto hers.

She took one of his hands, and cupped it in her own. They were larger, but she squeezed gently and nodded. "Yes," she said, leaning closer so that only he could hear her. "You're safe, Tom."

She could see the tension leave his body as he fell back into unconsciousness again. There was a small smile on his face. She felt tears welling up, but she stood and quickly wiped them away before Danny noticed. He had already removed Tom's shoes, and was placing them by the bedside.

He glanced over at her. "Well, then."

Before Danny could say any more, Malcolm entered the room and waved the key cards. "Only two keys, I'm afraid. I'll leave one on the this little table," he placed it there as he said it, then turned and held the other one up. "Who would like the other?"

Danny and Zoe looked at one another, than back to the white plastic card Malcolm was holding in the air. Danny shook his head minutely, and Zoe felt an odd sense of relief. He knew that she wanted it, even when she wasn't aware herself.

"I'll take it," she said, trying to keep the waver out of her voice. Malcolm glanced towards Danny, but shrugged and offered her the key card. "I can stop by after, when we're off the clock, to check up on him," she explained, not meeting their eye's.

Danny looked at his watch, and cursed. "Speaking of which," he moaned, "We better check in with Harry, and let him know what's going on."

Wide-eyed, Malcolm asked, "You mean he's _knows_?"

"No!" the other two exclaimed, as Danny quickly added, "And he can't know."

"Ah, very well then." Malcolm smiled at the other two, trying to reassure the field agents that even he was able to keep a secret.

"We better be off," Zoe said. She knelt down beside Tom, and reached for his hand. After a minute, she stood. "A little rapid for my tastes, but his heart rate is steady." She could see the slight jumpiness of Tom's stomach as he fought for a way to breathe, even unconscious, without pain.

"Come," Malcolm said, softly. "He should be fine until you return."

The three slowly shuffled out of the room, not without throwing a few concerned looks Tom's way. As Danny was closing the door behind him, he hesitated then called out to the other two, already making their way down the hall. "Go ahead, I'll be down in a sec."

Malcolm continued, as if he didn't hear him, but Zoe had a look of curiosity on her face. She didn't say anything, however, and followed Malcolm to the lift. When he felt they were out of sight, he swiftly ducked into the room and swept up the key card that was left behind. "For your own safety, and my peace of mind, old pal," he muttered. With quick efficiency, he unplugged the phone as well. Danny stole one last glance towards his former leader, before locking the door and letting himself out.

As their approach to Thames House grew imminent, the three felt a bundle of nerves and stress start to overtake them. Out of them, only two were trained field agents, but even they were feeling as confused and lost as ever.

When Danny finally parked, and turned the van off, they sat in silence for a moment.

"What do we tell him?" Zoe finally asked, without turning her head to face the others.

"I don't know," Danny replied. He took couldn't tear his eyes away from the windshield before him.

"Why don't you tell him the truth?" Malcolm suggested from the back. When the two simultaneously whipped their heads back to glare at him, he held up both his hands in mock surrender. "I mean," he said, slowly, "Tell him that the target escaped."

"And why it's taken us over an hour to tell him? You care to explain that one, Malcolm?" Danny's tone was tinged with sarcasm, only the tightening of his hands on the steering wheel belied his overwhelmed state of mind.

"You could always say that you were searching for him," Malcolm said.

"Look, it's good enough, Danny," Zoe snapped. "Harry'll be angry enough as it is. We don't need to be in there, fumbling for answers we don't bloody well have, now do we?"

"Alright, alright," Danny acquiesced. He mumbled, "Sheesh," underneath his breath but said nothing further.

It took a few minutes, but they eventually made it to the Grid. As they each entered, removing coats and jackets and scarves a like, they could see their fellow co-worker, Sam, peek her head from around her computer.

"Uh-oh," Sam's beaming face fell when she saw that it was the trio that had trudged in. "Harry's been looking for you," she called out, "And he's not happy."

Malcolm scurried off with nothing more than a shrug and apologetic face. The other two risked a look towards Harry's office, and could see their boss was red-faced and muttering. It was only a few seconds after when Ruth walked out, a similar apologetic look on her face as well. Just as she was about to open her mouth to brace the two for the oncoming storm, the clear sound of a phone being slammed down was heard. The next moment Harry, with his lips pressed into a thin, white line, breezed past Ruth and shouted over his shoulder, "Meeting room! Now!"

Danny hung his head and groaned, as Zoe closed her eyes and steeled herself for the next few moments. They looked at one another, and looked at the mixed expressions of support and sympathy from the other workers. Finally, they stood and entered the meeting room.

Before Danny could even close the door entirely, Harry was already shouting, "Where the _hell_ have you two been? I've nearly sent out a search party to scour the streets for you lot!"

The junior agents took their seats, across from one another, and determinedly look down at the table, rather than their fuming superior. Harry, to his benefit, took a visible deep breath, and placed both of his hands on the table, leaning forward.

"Would someone care to tell me what the bloody hell is going on?" His tone was firm, but still laced with anger. "Hmm?" He pointedly looked at Zoe, as he said her name. "Zoe?" He looked at Danny. "Danny? Anything at all to share?" He continued to levelly stare at the two agents, taking time to swing the heated glare at one before switching to the other.

Harry's piercing brown eyes were on Danny when Zoe finally cleared her throat and spoke up. "We, uh," she looked up and faltered when he swung his eyes back on her, "We lost the target, Harry."

"Well, obviously," Harry sarcastically replied. He pulled away from the table and crossed his arms, using one to swipe a hand down his face and pinch the bridge of his nose. "Alright, what's the damage?"

Surprised, the two agents looked at one another, open-mouthed. "You're not mad?" Danny asked, an almost child like hope in his face and voice.

"Of course I'm mad! For Christ's sake-" Harry cut himself off, before he went off on another tangent.

"Hakeem knows we're on to him," Zoe quickly said, hoping to stop whatever else Harry wanted to say. When Harry turned to her, saying nothing, she took it as a sign to continue. "I don't know how," she lied, knowing full well how, and who all it involved. "But we can assume he's gone into hiding."

"Or fled the country," Harry griped. He said nothing else though, and the younger agents simply looked at one another silently. He pulled out the chair at the head of the table, and dropped himself in it heavily. "If that's the case, then it's big-sister's problem. Not ours," he said, a sour tone coloring his words at the mention of MI-6.

"Harry-" Zoe waited until he looked up before continuing. "Is something going on that we don't know about?"

"I could ask you two the same thing," Harry shot back, one brow perked up and a slight smile on his face. He laced his fingers on top of the table and leaned forward, as if he had a secret. In a conspiratorial whisper, he asked, "Is there something I should know about?"

Zoe looked away, and Danny visibly swallowed.

"Like what?" Danny asked, trying to sound as clueless as he hoped he looked.

Harry's smile only widened, but it didn't put the two at ease. It only served to make them even more uncomfortable under his scrutinizing stare.

"You tell me," he replied, once again taking the time to look at one before looking at the other. After a few moments, Harry finally relented and leaned back into his chair. "Right. If you two have nothing further to add; we're done here. Write up your reports, and have them on my desk by tomorrow morning. No excuses."

Danny and Zoe once again shared expressions of confusion and surprise, but only nodded and murmured their acknowledgment as they stood to leave. As they reached the door, however, Harry's firm voice stopped them in their tracks.

"I may not know what's going on," he drawled, "But do know this- I know _something_ is."

There was an unmistakable threatening tone to his voice, but he still held a false smile on his face, one not quite reaching his eyes. Danny and Zoe proffered similar smiles, and hurriedly exited the room.

When they reached their respective desks, they paused and looked up at one another.

"What the _hell_ was that about?" Danny demanded, his voice slightly louder than he intended.

Zoe hushed him, and he dutifully looked around to see if anyone overheard. She sank down in her chair and shook her head. "I have no idea."

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**TBC...**

**Please Review.  
**


	8. Chapter 8

Harry's dismissal for the day couldn't have come any sooner for the exhausted Danny and Zoe. Without another word, they exited out of their respective computers and shut everything on their desks down for the night. Gathering up their coats, scarves, and gloves, they wearily waved goodbye to their fellow coworkers and donned on their warming layers as they left.

The cold, night air stung Zoe's face. Normally Danny would have teasingly commented on the rosy pink color of her ears, nose, and cheeks, but he was too tired to utter anything.

By the time they reached their flat, Zoe had her forehead pressed against the cool window, and was dozing. Danny leaned over and gently shook her out of light slumber, and she smiled tiredly in response.

Upon entering, Danny tossed his keys on the bar and began to systematically remove his layers of clothing as he made his way towards his room. Zoe, in the process of pulling off her gloves and unwinding her scarf, paused. She tossed the gloves on the couch behind her, but left the scarf draped around her shoulders as she went into her bedroom.

She pulled out a small, navy blue duffel bag and placed it on her bed as she entered her bathroom and began piling together the main necessities she needed for at least one night of hygiene. After she put those in the bag, she gathered up an outfit she could sleep in, and dug into her closet for an abandoned medical kit. It may not have contained all that would be needed for all of Tom's injuries, but she figured what it did have would suffice.

A soft knock on her open door made her look up, as she was placing the kit in the bag.

"And where are you off to?" Danny questioned, leaning against the door frame.

"To look after Tom," she replied offhandedly, looking around the room for anything she could have missed. She saw a half-empty prescription bottle of Oxycodone from a previous injury, and collected that as well.

"Why don't I go?" he offered, watching her flit about.

"Because I have the key card," she said, closing up the bag and placing it on her shoulder. She turned off the lamp on the night table, and tried to step out of the bedroom. Danny didn't move, and she furrowed her brow and took a step back. "Danny, I need to go."

His face, shrouded by darkness, was unreadable. He nodded, more to himself than to her, and fell back. "Whatever."

Zoe stepped past him, and pushed the bag up further on her shoulder. "Excuse me? Am I missing something?"

He shook his head. "Oh, no. It's just that you just walked in, and now you're in an awful hurry to go to Tom's side."

"Danny!" Zoe exclaimed, disbelief tingeing her tone. "He's injured, and needs someone to look after him. We discussed this earlier, did we not?"

Danny didn't respond, and Zoe scoffed. "I can't believe you."

"What?" he questioned.

"You're jealous!" she stated.

"I am not!" However, the amount of energy he focused into trying to keep his face neutral was obvious, and Zoe frustratingly turned on her heel and stalked towards the living area.

She tugged on her gloves, and jerked the door open. She snatched the keys off the bar with a slight sneer on her face.

"Wait!" he cried. "How am I supposed to get to work then?"

"Call a cab!" she shouted over her shoulder. "Don't be late!"

Danny cursed and slammed the door shut.

* * *

Zoe drove a little faster than she would have normally, still feeling the residual annoyance and anger towards Danny in her fingertips. By the time she had arrived at the motel they put Tom up in, she was nearly running to get to his side. Her fingers trembled as she tried to swipe the card and open the door, having to do so more than once before she finally managed to relax long enough to open it.

Although it was dark, the light from the lone street lamp outside illuminated the room enough for Zoe to see Tom's outline on the floor. She closed the door and dropped her bag quickly, rushing to his aid. He was sitting in the doorway of the bathroom, his back against the frame and his long legs pulled up to his chest.

Zoe fell to her knees beside him, gently lifting up his hanging head and calling out his name. He came to life, pulling his head away and placing his hands on either side of him, trying to push his body back. With the door frame behind him, he didn't move anywhere, but the sudden movement did cause him to moan in pain.

"Tom?" Zoe reached out and gingerly touched his cheek, trying to get him to meet her eyes. "Tom, it's me. Zoe."

Tom leaned his head back, and studied her with his one open eye. His lips parted open, but he didn't say anything. She could see recognition flickering in the blue iris, and smiled softly to reassure him that she wasn't a threat. "It's Zoe."

"Zoe," he whispered, his voice hoarse.

"Yes," she replied, sighing softly. "What are you doing here? On the floor?"

Tom tilted his head away from her. "I felt sick," he said, his voice still rough and low.

She nodded in understanding, and then clapped her hands together. "Right." She looked down at him, and shook her head. "We have to get you up, and back into bed. I'm going to need your help, okay? Tom?" She could see his open eye wandering, and called out his name again. "Tom, do you understand? I can't get you up by myself. Can you stand?"

He nodded slowly, and slowly started to move. Zoe pushed herself up on one knee, and carefully wrapped her arms underneath one of his massive biceps. With an unattractive grunt, she stood and tried to pull as much of Tom's weight up as he simultaneously tried to push-off the floor. After a brief struggle, Zoe fell back into the opposite side of the door frame, while Tom nearly crushed her underneath him. He barely braced himself in time by placing a hand above her head.

They stood there a moment, both breathing deeply and flushed red. Zoe could feel the heat rolling off of her cheeks in waves, and noted Tom felt like a furnace. She looked up slowly, only to see that Tom was looking down at her. His good eye focused intensely on hers, and she could see a slight tic in his jaw. Finally, he blinked and whatever spell that had overcome the pair broke. He pulled away, and took a few coltish steps towards the bed. After a brief pause, he carried on and finally made it to the edge. Zoe followed behind silently.

Zoe watched as Tom slowly turned and sat himself down, a grimace of pain on his face.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, and went to fetch her forgotten bag. "I have some painkillers in here, somewhere," she mumbled, rooting through the bag as she walked back to where Tom was sitting. After a minute, she pulled out the medical kit and an orange prescription bottle. "Here we are."

Tom silently watched as Zoe tossed aside the duffel and placed the little kit on the bed stand, before turning on her heel and entering the bathroom. He could hear running water, and some rattling before Zoe returned with a small plastic cup and two white tablets. "Here," she said, placing the pills in his hand and holding out the cup for him to take. He glanced up before swallowing the two pills.

Zoe took the now empty cup and smiled. "Those should kick in soon." She trashed the cup and returned to pick up the medical kit. Opening it up, she pulled out a little bottle of antiseptic, gauze, and a butterfly bandage. Without a word, she gently tilted his head back and dabbed the now damp gauze around his swollen eye before blowing it dry. She proceeded to do the same to a deep cut on his left cheek, before placing the bandage over it. "There."

She gathered everything up, and placed them on her bed, before returning. She knelt before Tom, and watched as he struggled to keep his eye open. As his head bobbed once more, she smiled and touched his shoulder. "Why don't you just lie back then, yeah? Get some rest."

Tom lay on his back, and stared up at the ceiling as the drugs started to take a hold. Zoe bent over, brushed his hair back, and placed a tender kiss on his cheek. She blushed at his furrowed brow, and pulled away. He hazily watched as she walked away towards the restroom, before succumbing to the exhaustion and painkillers.

As her former team leader lie sleeping, Zoe splashed cold water against her face and closed her eyes. Maybe Danny had been on the right track. Although she couldn't ever imagine saying it out loud, some part of her was attracted to Tom. In fact, as long as she was on the topic, she couldn't think of anyone that _wasn't_ attracted to Tom in one way or another. All men admired his skillful tact, strong leadership ability, and cool and calm demeanor. All women loved his doe-eyed expression that nearly begged for someone to love him, and his will to fight in what he believed in (especially when it was them.)

With a drawn out sigh, Zoe shook her head and turned off the faucet. She pulled off a towel hanging on the available rack."Tom fuckin' Quinn," she mumbled into the rough material.

* * *

**TBC...**

**Please Review.  
**

**A/N: I'm looking for a willing Beta to help edit this story. Anyone interested?  
**


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